If you're shopping for last-minute Halloween stuff and missing Love Saves the Day since it departed the East Village back in January 2009, you have another chance to enjoy the ambiance of Pez dispensers, vintage collectibles, fright wigs, and rubber hands from the crypt. But you'll have to go out of town for it.

Love is still saving the day in New Hope, Pennsylvania--and they still don't like strollers, cell phones, cameras, or unattended children.

And it has its own building, so nobody's going to give it the boot or price it out of business. Original LSD owner Leslie Herson moved out to the country part time nearly 30 years ago. Said Leslie upon the near-closing of the New York store in 2005, "It’s a shame. New York is losing its individuality because little stores like mine can’t compete."

Now that individuality, lost to the city, is being scattered across the country. As New York City turns into Little Wisconsin, mini Nantucket, and the rest, small-town America is getting bits and pieces of the city. Fair exchange?

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Fedora fans, shield your eyes. A tipster sends in this shot of the old place gutted to the studs, being prepared for her next incarnation:

Good news from commenter Jordon on the rising of Village Paper: "This is very exciting! I stopped by last night and Sonny confirmed for me that this location will indeed be permanent! At the end of the Halloween season, they will be stocking all the paper products and assorted knick knacks that they have been known for. Huzzah!"

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

The people who brought you the smell of urban renewal, continue the trend with the odor of "Nouveau Bowery." Smells like: "The sweet scent of skid row transitioning to ultra-modernity." That is really, truly the actual ad copy. [BB]

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Enjoy 1966's Unexpurgated New York, the guide to "How to identify a plain-clothes cop. Where to 'peep' and where to go if you want to be 'peeped' at. Which public phones are tapped. Where to buy an eye-patch after midnight." If memory serves, you can find it at the Jefferson Market Library. [VS]

The former Ruben's Empanadas in the East Village (formerly Caprice Curls beauty salon), as we know, shuttered suddenly last month and will soon be taken over by its new neighbor South Brooklyn Pizza (formerly Cosmos Parcels, almost Rokara Cafe).

A history of the hipster: "rather than an indie or bohemian subculture, it felt like an ethnicity—with its clannishness, its claiming of microneighborhoods from other, older migrants (Chinese, Puerto Ricans, Orthodox Jews), and its total uninterest in integrating into the local populations." [NYM]

As a rash of anti-gay violence sends panic and rage through the city, is it time for The Pink Panther Patrol to take back the streets?

I got in touch with Chris Kreussling, one of the founders of the East Village unit of the Pink Panther Patrol. He recalled the city in the early 1990s as filled with LGBT activist groups, including Queer Nation and the Lesbian Avengers.

photo: Marc Geller

In 1990, anti-gay violence was skyrocketing in the city. In April of that year, says Wikipedia, "responding to the 120% increase in violence against queers, Queer Nation climbs to the roof of Badlands, a Greenwich Village bar, and hangs a 40-foot banner that reads: Dykes and Fags Bash Back!"

By August 1990, the Pink Panthers were patrolling the Village between midnight and 3 A.M. on Fridays and Saturdays. They wore black t-shirts printed with paws on pink triangles. The t-shirts said "BASH BACK!"

Why the upswing in anti-queer violence? It's the same as it is today. A spokesperson from the Anti-Violence Project told the New York Times in the summer of 1990, "gay-bashing is a fairly hip thing to do these days. It's a sporting event for a lot of young men." Said a police officer at the time, "You can attribute some of it to the fact that gays and lesbians are now out in the open."

Chris Kreussling agrees. He told me, “With visibility came a backlash from social conservatives, in particular hate speech. With hate speech came increased attacks, targeting neighborhoods, bars, and clubs that were the social centers. The West Village was not the only such neighborhood. At the time the East Village had at least a half-dozen gay bars and clubs.”

Weekly World News, 1990

Like the other Panthers, Chris did not carry a weapon. He says, “We conducted self-defense workshops at the Karate School for Women on Bleecker Street. But most of the training was about street-smarts, street-awareness, and having patrols work as a team on the street. We carried whistles, and encouraged others to do so. We decidedly did NOT work with the Guardian Angels. We considered most of them to be gay-bashers themselves.”

Chris used data from the Anti-Violence Project and, he says, “produced maps of reported incidents that helped both the West and East Village Panther patrols target the areas, down to individual blocks, with the greatest risk.”

Patrolling the streets of the East Village in 1990 wasn’t easy. Says Chris, “On patrol, reaction to our presence was about what you would expect. We were heckled and jeered, and better that we were rather than someone else." But the Panthers were also heroes to many New Yorkers. "We were thanked and cheered. The most gratifying part was the support we got from our neighbors and community. When we marched in the 1990 Pride Parade, the response was deafening.”

The Pink Panther Patrol didn't last long. In 1991, Metro Goldwyn Mayer sued the group for using a trademarked name they said was "created and promoted in the spirit of lighthearted, noncontroversial family fun and entertainment." MGM won. The Pink Panthers show no sign of coming back.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Happy in NYC? "White Manhattanites who make more than $75,000 are the most satisfied." [NYDN]

New York portrayed as evil by politicians' ads: "In one spot, the Statue of Liberty is enveloped by threatening shadows. In others, photos of a Wall Street street sign segue into scenes of corporate types swilling cocktails or puffing cigars, and smug-looking bankers roaming the streets of Manhattan." [NYT]

It's almost Halloween--to celebrate, the Village Paper party store rises from the dead, from the ashes of the fire that consumed it back in February.

Thanks to reader Grand St.'s tip, I checked out the boarded up store on 10th and Greenwich and found a sign stating "The Halloween Party Store" has moved to 8th Street between 5th Avenue and University Place. Indeed, in the former Metro Drugs location, owner Mr. Wong brings a new Halloween shop packed with masks, wigs, rubber body parts, plastic fangs, the works.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

In my travels through the New York Public Library's digital archives, I came upon this shot of 14th Street and Avenue B, the southeast corner:

And here it is today, courtesy of Google streetview, with much less sky and more crowded street. That's the Copper Building rising to the right, claiming this block for the up-and-coming. It's rare that one-story structures survive in this town. How much longer does such a prime corner have?

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

In this week's New Yorker magazine, funny guy Joe Dator has a cartoon about New York, King Kong, and cupcake shops. He sent it to me, I loved it, and asked him some questions about it. (Also, as a frequent rejectee of the esteemed magazine, I am inwardly thrilled to have helped inspire a New Yorker cartoon.)

Well, aside from being desperate for ideas that day, I can thank JVNY for getting me thinking about the rapid outbreak of cupcake shops in this city. I'd been reading your posts about the cupcake blitzkreig for some time and it seemed like a good starting point for a cartoon. I'm also a huge fan of the original 1933 King Kong, and somehow the two things collided in my head and it made sense. That last bit is the hard part.

I'm always looking for ideas that are New York specific. I live here, and as a native son I feel it's my province to do cartoons that are really about the city. If you look at my track record only a handful have gotten in to the New Yorker, but I'm the most proud of those.

What do you have against cupcakes--aren't they just little dollops of joy and love?

Cupcakes are just a symbol for the shiny Bloomberg-ized, Carrie Bradshaw-defined boutique city New York is turning into. I grew up during the 1970s, when the old New York--"King Kong's New York" if you like--was still very much in evidence, and would be well into the 90s. Like you, I've watched, often in horror, and particularly over the last decade, as the city has been transformed into something nearly unrecognizable and sadly lacking in character.

I certainly have nothing against the cupcakes themselves. Shortly after I handed this cartoon in, I tried a Magnolia cupcake for the first time. It was good. I suppose I could have written "Twas Marc Jacobs killed the beast," but cupcakes was funnier, and it won't get me sued.

New Yorker cartoons have a reputation for being "hard to get." In yours, how exactly did cupcake places kill King Kong? Did he die from eating too many cupcakes or did the presence of so many cupcake shops in the city take away his will to live? Was this a suicide?

I don't get the "I don't get it" thing. It seems to hearken back to an older image of what a New Yorker cartoon is--like some kind of esoteric doodle--but the cartoonists there now are doing, in my opinion, some brilliant and edgy stuff. When I see my contemporaries' work in the magazine these days I see some very sharp, very funny satire. There's nothing not to get. I guess I blame that "Seinfeld" episode, which people are always quoting to me, and I always take great pleasure in telling them that a New Yorker cartoonist wrote it. (Yes, it's true--Bruce Eric Kaplan.)

But to answer your question about how New York being overrun with cupcake shops, and the (designer) baggage that goes with them, can kill a 25-foot-tall ape, it is in much the same way that "beauty" did him in before--by breaking his heart.

The good folks at Anthology Film Archives just turned us on to a silent black-and-white, 16mm chunk of footage of "New York City--Downtown." It has been identified as the work of Lowell Bodger.

We see an empty urban landscape with only a few people walking. Few cars pass. The streets are cobblestoned--even Broadway at Astor, a desolate row of Automat, parking garage, upholstering and stationery shops. (Those buildings are gone and it's now Game Stop, AT&T, The Body Shop, Benetton.) There's Grace Church in the background as we look uptown.

Take a right on Astor. Following a white-finned car going east, past Cooper Union, you catch a ghostly glimpse of the neon sign for the St. Mark's Baths up ahead.

But first let's stop for a slow pan of Astor Place and its Luncheonette. The square is quiet, empty. People walk very, very slowly. There are no skateboarders. There is no Cube. It looks like a forgotten part of town.

I've been curious about that lost building since I first saw it in Rudy Burckhardt's 1947 photo "Coca-Cola Goddess." By the time this undated film footage was taken, the goddess was gone. I've wondered if it might have been a newspaper office--other photos I've seen have trucks parked outside what looks like a loading dock, with those braced iron overhangs, but I've never figured it out.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Remembering Variety Photoplays: "you could get a handjob/blowjob, with no need of knowing who was giving it to you." [LL]

From 1986, THEM returns to PS122--Dennis Cooper reads to "cacophonous electric guitar live; frequently violent and exhausting dance sequences" culminating "in a horrific duet between Houston-Jones and an animal carcass on a dusty mattress."

Bad old days are back? The Guardian Angels are papering the city with recruitment flyers:

A newbie says Goodbye New York after two years. City Room commenters are unsympathetic. [CR]

One of the last vestiges of the real, old New York remaining in Times Square is Jimmy's Corner. Don't worry, it's not vanishing, as far as I know.

A snug dive on 44th, dedicated to the sweet science of boxing, it's "exactly the kind of place where a stranger might walk up to you and ask you to step outside--the kind of place where almost anything could happen," writes Brendan Patrick Hughes in Mr. Beller's Neighborhood.

When you step inside, the misery of tourist-clogged New Times Square, with its bland gruel of flashing TV screens and family-friendly fare, all falls away. It just disappears. The door closes behind you and everything else ceases to exist. You are suddenly in New York again.

The regulars are talking and it's a pleasure just to sit and listen:

"When my wife had another girl, I resented it at first. I wanted a boy! Then I saw she had 10 fingers and 10 toes, and I just thanked God for another healthy baby. Did you know, my aunt told me this, back in the day, people were so ignorant, when she had her fifth girl, her husband beat her up. Because he wanted a boy and she didn't deliver! People were ignorant back then."

"You know what they say? They say it takes a real man to make a girl than it does to make a boy."

"Is that right?"

Jimmy's wife, Swannie, is the only woman at the bar. She's fixing the drinks. A photo of her hangs on the wall, in an article naming the bar an essential part of New York. Today she's talking about the city's habit of tearing up the streets.

"They're always fixing the streets," she says, "but the streets don't get any better."

The regulars agree. They talk about pensions, they talk about retirement. One man says he's tired of breaking rocks. He's too old for breaking rocks. And, by the way, did you hear, now the city's eliminating entire bus routes.

"I hear they're eliminating a lot of things," says Swannie.

And isn't that the truth? Times Square betrayed McHale's and dumped the Rum House--it's only a matter of time before Jimmy's is threatened with a knock-out, too. When that day comes, let's hope they put up a mean fight.

After 150 years of unremitting squalor with bursts of wild creativity, and about 5 minutes of unrestrained excess and glamor, the Bowery "style" is now priced to sell and spreading out across the country. Here's how it happened.

In November 2007, Hamptons boutique Blue & Cream moved to the Bowery and soon debuted the Bowery Hoodie for $140:

In April 2008, John Varvatos moved into the former CBGB. He sells the Bowery Boot for $698, Bowery Sunglasses for $375, and Bowery Fit jeans for $198.

In February 2010, J. Crew unveiled the Bowery Pant for a relative pittance at $98:

In July 2010, Rag & Bone moved to Houston--it's not even on Bowery, just slightly off--but they still manage to sell the Bowery cargo pant for $240:

So far, Bowery-branded clothing has been putting up the big numbers, hauling in some major cash. But now, in a grand example of trickle-down fashion trends, Old Navy (also not on Bowery) has started selling the Bowery Bombers sweatshirt for $19.50:

What are the Bowery Bombers? Were they really established in 1948? And what is the meaning of the number 32? The answers are: Nonexistent, No, and Nothing. But I sort of like the Old Navy shirt, as it baldly and unpretentiously reveals the meaninglessness of all the luxury-level Bowery-branded clothing items that preceded it.

In only 4 years, the fashion industry has managed to do its part in changing the meaning of the Bowery, a meaning that held strong in the country's consciousness for a century and a half. Now, in shopping malls, outlet complexes, and "retail-tainment" centers all across the country, from Orlando, Florida, to Wenatchee, Washington, "The Bowery" will mean something very different to countless bargain shoppers and back-to-schoolers.

What will it mean? Only time will tell. But when the tour buses begin disgorging folks in search of $5 "My Mom Visited The Bowery and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt" t-shirts, well, you'll know how it all came to be.

Monday, October 11, 2010

In 1995 the Whitney Museum held a retrospective on the work of Edward Hopper. I must have attended the exhibit a dozen times. One of my favorite paintings of Hopper's, Early Sunday Morning, can still be seen at the Whitney, and it was there then, too.

I remember standing at this painting with a docent who described the shadowy block in the upper-right corner, how it symbolized a high-rise encroaching on these little brick buildings. It meant a dark future was coming and the world of these sun-drenched bricks would vanish.

Sometimes, I find myself unconsciously repeating Hopper's composition in snapshots--the pairing of low-rise brick buildings, sunny and warm, blushing in the light, with a cold monolith encroaching, upper right. This isn't hard to do. The image is everywhere.

Friday, October 8, 2010

As we debate about Little Nantuckets and Little Wiscos, writer Sloane Crosley sheds some light on how the new New Yorker's wish to believe the city is just like the suburbs leads to smugness and stupidity. The Grumbler provides a fresh example.

Is Jones Street the perfect, "undiscovered" New York street? A kind of un-Bergen, it is mostly residential, a surprisingly quiet oasis between the cacophony of tourists and conspicuous consumers that flood Bleecker and West 4th, the two streets that bookend little Jones.

"Jeremiah Moss does an excellent job of cataloging all that’s constantly being sacrificed to the god of rising rents." --Hugo Lindgren, New York Times Magazine

"No one takes stock of New York's changes with the same mixture of snark, sorrow, poeticism, and lyric wit as Jeremiah Moss... Even as the changes he's cataloging break our hearts a little, it's that kind of lovely, precise writing that makes Moss's blog essential reading." --Village Voice, Best of NY

“Jeremiah Moss…is the defender of all the undistinguished hunks of masonry that lend the streets their rhythm.” --Justin Davidson, New York Magazine

"One of the most thorough and pugnacious chroniclers of New York’s blandification." --The Atlantic, Citylab